


Diagnosis

by jaradel



Series: Where It Started Between Us [1]
Category: August: Osage County (2013)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/pseuds/jaradel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May, 2012. Ivy receives some devestating news, and there's only one person she can tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after [agameofscones](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orithea/pseuds/agameofscones) and I went to see August: Osage County together on January 10th. It started as fic therapy for all of my Sherlock angst, but I like these characters and want to explore the development of their relationship. I have a couple more fics in the pipeline that continue in this series. Ratings will go up in future fics.
> 
> Beta'ed by the lovely [agameofscones](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orithea/pseuds/agameofscones). Thanks sweetie!

                 _May, 2012_

                Ivy could hear the oncologist speaking, but the words weren’t registering. _Cancer_. Her gynecologist had found something of concern during her annual exam, and referred Ivy to an oncologist for more tests. Cervical cancer. The irony of it makes her want to scream. Ivy, the middle child, lost between bitter, outspoken Barbara and wild-child, free-spirit Karen, always the “good girl,” the one who stayed behind in Pawhuska after both of her sisters left for greener pastures, looking after her sharp-tongued mother and her withdrawn, depressed father. Ivy, who quietly finished her degree, got a job teaching at the local college, never dated “bad boys”, never slept around. Ivy, who gave of herself all the time, is now facing losing everything.

                Goddammit.

                She shakes herself out of her pity-party long enough to discuss treatment options with the oncologist. They could try radiation, and if that didn’t work, they could move on to chemo, and if _that_ didn’t work, then surgery. A hysterectomy. No chance to ever carry a child. Ivy mulls this over – it’s not like she has a man in her life anyway, not like she’s ever been even close to getting married, let alone starting a family – but the finality of a hysterectomy is still daunting, turning a maybe into a never. To be fair, though, the likelihood of her having a child at forty-three is pretty slim, but at least she had the option before. She feels lost, adrift, no one to talk to about all this. She makes an appointment for the first radiation treatment the following week, and walks out of the doctor’s office on autopilot, oblivious to the world as she gets in her car. It’s not until she closes the door that the tears come.

                Ivy gives herself over to the overwhelming cascade of emotions, knowing that no good will come of keeping it all bottled up inside. Who can she talk to about this? Not her father; Ivy is the invisible girl, and Beverly’s interest in his daughters faded after Barbara and Bill packed up and left. She knows Barbara was his favorite, and now that her older sister is in Colorado, her father has retreated so far into himself that Ivy wonders if he’ll ever emerge. Her mother is completely out of the question – Violet already treats Ivy like she’s defective, and insults her nearly every time they talk; no, she’s _definitely_ not discussing this with her mother. Barbara? Yeah, right. They’ve never been that close, and Barbara is so wrapped up in her own little world that she can’t be bothered to worry about anyone else’s problems. And Karen is a lost cause, a teenager in a thirty-nine-year-old’s body, still waiting for her Prince Charming to rescue her, and kissing a lot of frogs in the process. No, Karen wouldn’t understand. Neither would Aunt Mattie Fae, not that Ivy was ever that close to her anyway, but while she’s deciding who to tell about her problem, she might as well decide who _not_ to tell. And while Uncle Charlie is a kind soul, and has always been sweet to Ivy, cancer in your lady parts is not something you discuss with an older male relative.

                But there is one person in her whole fucked-up family who she could talk to, Ivy decides as she wipes the tears away and starts her car.

                Charles.

                Ivy’s always felt a kinship beyond that of the usual first-cousin relationship with Charles, Aunt Mattie Fae and Uncle Charlie’s only son. Even when he was just a baby, she gravitated toward him, with his bright blue eyes and – at that point – white-blond hair. She felt protective of him when Barbara dismissed him as too noisy and Karen was too little to notice him. As they grew up together, she looked out for her younger cousin, and frequently at family gatherings they would wander off together and hide, talking for hours until Aunt Mattie Fae would suss out their hiding place and drag Charles away – sometimes literally – berating him the whole time. Ivy has never understood why Aunt Mattie Fae is so mean to Charles, who has his father’s kindness in spades.

                Everyone calls Charles Aiken, Jr. “Little Charles”, even though he stood two inches taller than his father by the time he was 16. Ivy remembers the lanky teenager he used to be, when his hair finally darkened and took on the deep auburn waves common to their mothers’ side of the family. At that point he still hadn’t grown into his facial features, which seemed larger and more exaggerated than normal. It was a few years later—when Ivy was 25 and had just finished her master’s degree, and Charles finally grew into his lanky body, sharp cheekbones, and wide-set eyes—that Ivy started to see him in a light that perhaps was not appropriate for two people so closely related. She had pushed it way, way down, until enough time passed that she thought she’d forgotten about it. She dated other men, worked as a substitute teacher in Osage County public schools before landing a position as an adjunct professor at Tulsa Community College, and generally moved on with her life.

                In spite of her best efforts, Ivy still finds herself drifting back to Charles and his quiet, understanding sort of company—her safe harbor. She’s watched over the years as he’s tried and failed at so many things: his college education (never made it past three semesters at TCC), real estate (took three tries to get his license and never sold or rented a single property), restaurant management (fired from the Sonic in Pawhuska after he overslept and missed the beginning of his afternoon shift three times), and every time he failed, Aunt Mattie Fae would tear him down again, each time more vicious than the last. _Loser. Disappointment. Stupid_. Ivy’s lost count of the number of times she’s sat with Charles after another reaming from his mother, holding his hand while he tried so hard not to cry. Just the thought of her aunt’s casual cruelty fills Ivy with powerless anger.

                Nowadays Charles barely supports himself with retail jobs while he works on his songwriting, which has been a hobby of his since childhood. Musical ability is Charles’ one talent, albeit one he’s never managed to parlay into a career, and given his propensity for bad luck, maybe that’s just as well. He has a fantastic ear for picking out tunes on the piano, and though his lyrics are somewhat simple and naïve, they work well paired with the music he writes. Ever since he was a child, Ivy was Charles’ main audience for his music, even after Aunt Mattie Fae refused to pay for more piano lessons, saying that Charles needed to toughen up, get outside and play sports (he went out for baseball and football, at his mother’s urging, and never made it past the first day of tryouts). Charles and Ivy would sit together at the electric organ in the living room of Ivy’s parents’ house, and he would play for her and sing softly, songs of love and happiness, and Ivy wondered how a man who’d been so beaten down by a woman who was supposed to love and care for him, could know so much about those subjects. She supposed that Uncle Charlie balanced out Aunt Mattie Fae’s hateful words, at least sometimes.

                Ivy drives down the highway, out of Tulsa and towards Bartlesville, where Charles has a small apartment. He’s moved out of his parents’ house again, and hopes that this time it’s for good. He never got his driver’s license when he was younger, which has somewhat limited where he can go, but there’s a pretty good bus system in Bartlesville, and Charles makes do. Ivy doesn’t bother calling ahead; Charles doesn’t go out, so if he’s not at work, he’ll be at home. He mainly fills his free time watching television or plunking out songs on his electric keyboard and humming to himself, his husky baritone a stark contrast to his otherwise reedy frame and perpetually rounded shoulders, the physical manifestation of the verbal beatings he’s endured from his mother for decades. Ivy sighs. If anyone will understand what it’s like to feel like life’s just thrown you under the proverbial bus, Charles will.

                She pulls into the parking lot of Charles’ apartment complex and finds a visitor’s space. Shutting off the car, she draws a few deep breaths to steady herself before getting out. The complex is a series of three-story walk-ups, and Charles lives on the bottom floor of the leftmost building. Ivy presses the buzzer for Charles’ apartment on the outside intercom.

                “Yeah?”

                “Charles, it’s Ivy. Can I come in?”

                “Hey Ivy, sure. One sec.”

                Ivy waits, turning away from the door to scan the skies. It’s tornado season, after all, and the weather can change at a moment’s notice, but right now the skies are a placid blue, though the day is already far too warm. She hears the door unlatch behind her and turns to see Charles there, in a baggy grey t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his auburn curls in disarray from a serious case of bed-head. His feet are bare, his toes wiggling on the cool green linoleum of the building’s foyer.

                “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ivy says. “I should’ve called.”

                “Nah, it’s no trouble. Shoulda been up a while ago, to tell you the truth,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep. “Come on in.”

                Ivy follows Charles into the building and to his apartment. He shuts the door when she comes in, and heads to the tiny kitchen to brew some coffee. Ivy sits on his battered plaid sofa, trying to decide how to tell her cousin, the person who’s probably her best friend in this whole godforsaken world, that she has cancer.

                “Coffee?” Charles calls from the kitchen.

                “Sure,” she says, standing up. She wanders over to Charles’ keyboard and sees his sheet music and notebooks there. One notebook is lying open, and half the page is filled with Charles’ messy handwriting – lyrics, some crossed through, some underlined. “Written anything new?” she asks.

                “Got a couple ideas I’m workin’ on,” he drawls, walking into the living room with two mugs of coffee. He hands her one, and she blows on it before taking a tentative sip. Cream and sugar, just how she likes it. She smiles up at her cousin gratefully. “Thanks,” she says.

                Charles smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Ivy sees it then – he’s worried. How Aunt Mattie Fae can claim that Charles is dumb is beyond her; Charles is the most perceptive person she knows. She looks away quickly, taking another sip of her coffee.

                “You gonna tell me about it?” he asks softly.

                “Tell you what?” Ivy replies, trying to keep her tone light.

                “Tell me what’s got you so upset,” Charles says. He takes her mug out of her hand and walks over to the sofa, setting their mugs on the battered coffee table in front of it before sitting down. Ivy joins him, sitting closer than perhaps most cousins would sit, but then again, she and Charles have always been different. She leans forward, elbows on her thighs and hands folded between her knees, looking down at the beige builder-grade carpet that has clearly seen better days, and tries to find the right words.

                Ivy feels a hand on her back then, stroking slowly up and down her spine in a soothing gesture, and the gentleness and innocence of it brings tears to her eyes. “I went to the doctor today,” she says haltingly. “I – um – well, I had a checkup last month, you know, my once-a-year thing, and the doctor found something and referred me to an oncologist.”

                Charles’ hand stops. “That’s a cancer doctor, isn’t it,” he says rather than asks.

                “Yeah. Anyway, they did some tests, and – oh God Charles, I don’t know how to say this –“

                “Cancer. You have cancer,” Charles says, resuming his soothing rubbing of her back.

                Ivy sighs. “Yeah.”

                “Where?” Charles asks.

                Ivy blushes. “Um – well, down _there_ ,” she says, slightly uncomfortable discussing the particulars of her lady bits, even though this is _Charles_ , and they’ve been friends all their lives.

                “Ovaries?” he asks, and Ivy can’t stifle her chuckle at hearing that word come out of his mouth, even as the tears still drip down her cheeks.

                “No, cervix,” she says. “It’s cervical cancer.”

                “Oh. Well, they can treat it, right? I mean, they caught it soon enough, didn’t they?”

                “Yeah, I guess. I start radiation treatments next week, and if that doesn’t work, then they’ll want to try chemo. Or surgery. Or both.”

                “Did you tell Aunt Violet? Or Barb or Karen?”

                Ivy sits up then, and turns to look at Charles. His face is creased with worry. Worry for _her_ , for Ivy. No one in her own family has ever cared for her even a fraction as much as Charles does, and that fact warms her even as it angers her. “No. And I’m not gonna tell them, and neither are you. And you better not breathe a word of this to Aunt Mattie Fae or Uncle Charlie, either. I’m gonna get through this and I don’t want the family givin’ me the third degree and tellin’ me how I should handle it, like they’ve done all my life.”

                Charles sits back a bit, surprised by Ivy’s sudden outburst. “Hey,” he says. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise you. But you don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve always been there for me, Ivy, you’ve always been the one I could turn to when bad things have happened. Please, let me do that for you. Let me be here for you. I wanna help, anyway I can.”

                The last vestiges of Ivy’s resolve crumble then, and she finds herself curling into Charles’ embrace, sobbing. Charles rocks her through it, his arms holding her close, his large hands running up and down her back soothingly as he murmurs to her. “It’s okay, Ivy, I’m here, I’m not gonna let you go. I’ll do whatever you need, you’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

                Ivy rests her head on his chest, hearing the thud-thud of his heart and the deep rumble of his voice, and she has never felt so safe and cared for in all her life. And suddenly she can feel those thoughts and feelings she’s kept buried for so long coming to the surface, the ones that cousins aren’t supposed to have for each other. She looks up at Charles then, and sees the same thoughts and emotions reflected in those pale blue eyes, and it’s like every moment in their lives have been leading to this moment here, on his plaid sofa with their coffee going cold on the table in front of them and some cheesy talk show muted on the television. And he dips his head and she lifts hers and finally, _finally_ , their lips touch and there’s no going back now, not when this is the most _right_ thing Ivy’s ever felt, and Charles is holding her close, and suddenly the air conditioning doesn’t feel like it’s working quite well enough because she’s hot and he’s hot and there’s just the electric hum of the window unit behind them and the slick press of their mouths on one another. She feels the tip of his tongue trace the seam of her lips and she parts them, granting him access, and the kiss deepens, and she is lost, but in the best way imaginable.

                Eventually they part – after all, breathing is a necessary thing – but there’s no shock, no disgust, no “we shouldn’t have done that.” There’s just the two of them, curled up on the sofa together, Ivy resting her head on Charles’ chest once again and Charles dropping soft kisses in her hair, his hands still stroking her arms and back soothingly.

                “God, I’ve wanted to do that for _ages_ ,” he rumbles, and Ivy laughs. “What – what’s so funny?”

                “Oh Charles,” Ivy says, giggling. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing is all.”

                “Really?” Charles sounds like he can’t believe it.

                Ivy looks up at him then, and sees the confusion there. “Yeah, really. I’ve always felt close to you, closer than I’ve ever felt to anyone, and I tried to tell myself that it was just ‘cause you’re my cousin, and we’ve been close since we were kids, but it’s been more than that for a while now.”

                “How long?” he asks.

                Ivy sighs. “’Bout 20 years, give or take,” she says, resting her head on his chest again.

                Charles laughs softly, a low rumble that vibrates his chest and makes Ivy smile. “I’ve got ya beat then,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “I think I’ve had a crush on you for about 30.”

                “Well you’ve always been the perceptive one,” she muses.

                “You’re the only one who thinks so,” he counters.

                “Does anyone else matter?” she asks teasingly. When Charles doesn’t answer right away, she looks up. Charles is gazing down at her, with the most joyful smile she’s ever seen on his face.

                “No. No one else matters,” he says, and kisses her again.


End file.
